Beautifully Broken
by wolfcries
Summary: When you have nothing, darkness consumes you. The abyss is a strange thing; it makes revenge all the sweeter. Her home was in ruins behind her, and everything she knew was gone. She was broken and only one man knew how to fix her. RATED M FOR ADULT RELATED THEMES (sexual violence and strong langue).
1. Chapter 1

Her world felt empty, it felt cold and forgotten. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't even if she tried, there was too much confusion in her to remember what crying was like. She couldn't even think of the words to explain how she felt. She was lost inside herself, in a dark pit that had become her soul and she could no longer see what lay before her. What happened to her happily ever after? What happened to magic and true love winning over all?

Her feet shuffled through hot sand, it poured in her now ruined silk shoes as she wandered helplessly. She left with her home in ruins, her kingdom burning. He made her leave; he shut the secret tunnel behind her and told her to save herself. The sound of metal slicing against metal and flesh stained her memories like ink stained silk. She looked down at the blood coating her tiny fingers and stumbled. It nauseated her, the smell, and the thick texture against her skin. She was shaking, she was scared and a part of her knew that they were coming after her. She knew on horses they would come racing through the desert sands after the young princess. She wasn't running though, she couldn't comprehend what running may do. What did she have to live for; she left everything behind amongst the meaningless slaughter.

She left him… She left her father… her friends… to be killed.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her feet stopped beneath her, all she could so was stare at the endless night sky beyond, stare and wait for the pain to come… For everything to end.

They lived happily for a year after the incident with the dark sorcerer, happily with no problems, in naive bliss. They actually thought that nothing could come in between them again. What children can believe that someone, who grew up in the streets, could completely turn a non-educated life into one that could rule an entire country? She loved him so much that she allowed herself to believe he could overcome this, that he could grasp what was needed to be a great ruler. Her love just didn't have it in him, and the Kingdom began to come crumbling at their fingertips. Her father tried to fix what he could along the way, but before anyone could have seen it an army was at their doorstep. These men demanded war, and to rule over the kingdom. Her love soon learned that saying no to a war load ended in horrible ways.

That's what got her here, in the dark heat of the desert nights, wasting away in the sands. She was growing tired, she didn't want to walk anymore, and she didn't want to be here anymore. She wanted to be in his arms, acting like the idiotic children they were. She forced herself to take another step forward and it ended with her body tumbling down the hill of sand before her. It burned, she inhaled a great deal of the tiny grains and it burned her lungs. Her body heaved for air, for water. Unlike her mind her body would fight to live, taking natural instincts to continue moving.

She rolled on her back and stared up at the stars, in all her might she forced herself to breathe. Her body was giving up slowly, as much of a front it had put up… she was growing tired. She let her hands fall from her heaving chest heavily; they felt like weights against it. The sand welcomed her figure in a tempting embrace, slowly covering her body every time the wind would blow. She glanced towards one tiny hand, watching in wonder as it began to disappear under the sand. Her fingers twitch in anxiety, is this how it would end? Being buried alive beneath the sands? She stretched her finger towards the surface seeking to feel the air against her skin, but instead she felt the smooth surface of metal. Her eyes searched the top layer of sand and saw nothing of the sort. She brushed her hand against it again, and again. It was defiantly there.

Knives, it felt like scorching knives where piercing her skin when she forced her tiny body to roll it its side. It was hard to move, but something was telling her that she had to see this object. Something from that darkness buried inside her soul bubbled in curiosity and called for this object. She let her buried fingers latch onto the smooth material and with as much as she could muster she began to pull it from the sands below.

Then her heart stopped, a great hand cupped her shoulder and the sound of horses rang haunting tunes in her ears. She didn't want to see the group of men behind her; she didn't even want to acknowledge the thick fingers that dug into her flesh. She gripped the object beneath the sand hander, as if the stupid thing could save her. "You're quite the little cunt aren't you?" The man's voice was think and ridged, it twisted the burning knives in her gut. Men who killed for pleasure sickened her. Then his hand was in her thick black locks, pulling the poor girl to her knees in the most painful way she could imagine. She wanted to scream in pain, but she wouldn't grant the bastard the pleasure. So instead she listened to the metal object she once grasped so desperately toss through the sand when it fell from her hands. It gave her an odd comfort knowing it was so close and once again on the surface. She tried to look for it, but the barbarian's free hand took a hold of her chin, forcing her to look at his scared face. "Fuck, quite the pretty lil' thing you are," The man lustful chuckle never missed her. She glared at him in all her hate and used the last of her sand filled saliva to spit in his face. "And a fuckin' feisty one. It'll be fun you break you lil one."

Her heart sunk. Break her, this bastard was intending to treat her like a wild horse? Have his way with her until she could be sold off to the highest bidder because she became obedient? The abyss inside began to crawl up, anger, it want to be free so it could fill the emptiness inside her with cold hatred. She took in the sight of the men around her, she'd rather die.

The warrior gave her toss into the sand and began to fumble with his clothing. "Hold the bitch down." She could hear them moving closer. She look towards the endless desert, and in her search for answers she saw a black object laying in the white sand, standing out like a sore thumb. She crawled for it. If anything she could use it as a weapon and run, so she reached her finger just grazing its surface before fingers engulfed her small ankles. Those fingers pulled her body back to the group of men, and let other fingers take her other ankle. Their ruff skin chafed her petit legs, groping her skin in ways she didn't want to understand. Two free men took her wrists and before the young princess would even realized she was pinned between men and sand.

The man who said he would break her, crawled on top of her, his large body covering her own. He had a sick smirk on his face and an all too lustfully amused look in his eyes. He griped the silk fabric that contained her lower half and gave a quick tug. The echo of the ruined cloth was frightening; it sunk deep into her bones at the realization. She wouldn't be able to run away from it, she wasn't going to leave with her innocence in tack.

His disgusting fingers began to stoke her opening, making her chest tighten in fear. She didn't want to glance towards the sight… so all she could do was stay silent, force back her screams and her tears. "Look you lil' cunt. I want you to see me forcing my cock into untouched pussy." She ignored him and looked into the distance of the sands. The burn of his hand contacting her cheek scolded her, her skin ached and her body shook. So she gave him what he wanted, she looked at him… but her face was emotionless. He growled in frustration with her. She was a stubborn bitch, but he'd make her scream one way or another, he was determined. He pushed his body forward rubbing his member against her, it made her flinch but it didn't make her face change. "I said look you lil' bitch." His hand was in her knotted locks again, forcing her to look down, to see his hard appendage pushing against her frail opening.

Tears began to weld up in her eyes, and her black hatred rose. She glared up at the man who hovered over her so possessively. He was amused to have his way, to see her breaking down. She mumbled under her breath hastily at him. "What did you just say?" suddenly an evil smile broke her lips, and the tears running down her cheeks no longer seemed like an accomplishment.

"I wish you were all dead."

The princess couldn't explain what happened next, but blood coated her skin. The colors of black and red eclipsed the area around her and left the men dead in its wake. All she could do was smile, she was clothed in their blood and she smiled at the horror of it. She no longer felt empty…. She felt like the black abyss consumed her completely. She began to laugh, it was a small and feeble sound but it welcomed her to feel whole once more. She leaned over the man who tried to rape her just so she could watch the life leave his eyes.

She couldn't stop smirking down at him, the evilness that took a hold of her was happy to see him struggling for life. She hastily gripped the broken warrior's chin and pulled his face towards her "Look at me…" slowly his eyes jittered towards the tiny girl, frightened. Her fingers tangled against the dagger strapped to his thigh, pulling the blade from its sheath. "I said look at me, I want you to watch me driving your blade through your throat." Her smile grew as the horror washed over his features. She put the blade through the soft tissue of his under jaw and pushed it till it punctured through bone of his skull. The man choked on the blade in his mouth. She twisted it and pushed harder until the hilt met the wound. She watched his eyes roll back in his head and the blood pool from his mouth like a river.

Her breath began to heave, and her body rushed with adrenaline, she didn't understand what had just happened… but she was forever thankful to whatever it was. She let herself collapse into the coated sand behind her; she could feel the long awaited tears rushing down her face and the frightened quaking of her skin take over the dark amused rush that had once been there. It was at that moment she realised she wasn't alone amongst the dead warriors; she froze as a dark voice pored over her senses.

"Now, pussy cat, I do believe we need to have a chat."

She knew that voice… but she didn't want to believe it to be true. This voice was nothing to be thankful for.

* * *

(A/n - thought i'd try something new and you know, destory disney a little with a twisted version of Alladin. This story is sopost to take place after the first movie, so the second one isnt sopost to happen. Tell me what you think. :)

Thanks 3)


	2. Chapter 2

Her body became ridged, unforgiving to the sound of his voice. Her legs squeezed together in an attempt to hide her nakedness. She felt disgusted, her skin was dirtied by the touch of these monsters, and the man behind her had been there to see it all. She trembled at the idea; he's now seen her naked flesh. He's seen her begin to shake in horror after she had almost been violated… and it made her feel venerable to him. She could feel his stare against her naked back. The way he stared down at her in his dark wonders made her skin crawl.

"Princess… I would rather love an explanation to why it is you releasing me from this cursed lamp."

She didn't answer him. She gazed at the blood soak sand, refusing to speak a word to him. She had wanted help, to be free of those terrible men…. But to think that wish was granted so she could left in the presence of another? She began to laugh at the irony of her situation. The man who had practically ran this country once tried to take it over, so young Jasmine and her love defeated him. He was the only reason this country even moved in the right direction, no one knew how to run the country like the sorcerer did. So this 'victory' left the doors open to even greater evils to take charge. She pressed the back of her battered hand against her brow, her laughter turning to tears.

The man behind her was puzzled at her sinister laughter. He didn't find this situation very amusing at all. In fact he found it rather insulting. Seeing the princess, whose beloved street rat had imprisoned him with this curse, laughing. He watched as her body slowly rocked the laughter to tiny sobs. The trauma had to be setting in by now. Her once beautiful clothing ruined and torn, her once silk skin dry and broken, and her long hair that once shined like black glass was tattered; this was not the princess he remembered.

How long had she been running? How far away from the kingdom she get before her body crumbled beneath her? Who exactly where these men who so eagerly chased her down? The woman who stood up to him, so beautifully proud, now kneeled in the sand like a slave, too frightened to show her face. Where had the fire in her heart gone? His head tilted in curiosity, he knew he had seen that fire not moments ago. No broken woman could spit in the face of her rapist and stare them down without a single tear or sound. No, he knew it was in her somewhere still… but now the fire was something dark, almost morbid. It wasn't the adolescent ignorance of a child; her power now grew from raw hatred. Darkness had bewitched Jasmine, and she was welcoming its evil with open arms. A smirk crossed his lips at the idea. Tempted to push that darkness to a new level, so the tigress inside could take over.

She inhaled at that moment, pushing any helpless emotion she had left back into that dark pit inside her. Her fingers reached for hair, pushing through the knots and thick clots of blood; using this motion to calm her senses. She took in the night sky and breathed in the hot, dry air. She smiled; it wasn't one of happiness, only of bitter recognition. She was sure the sight of her took the sorcerous back, surly she no longer looked the naive little girl, but something that was embracing the taint the sorcerer himself had once took long ago. She must have been frightening to see, certainly it was hypocritical. The silence between then became to unbarring for her anymore, as much as she hated the idea… she needed someone. She needed his help. "Jafar…" He was shocked to hear her speak, certain she was going to continue her childish games and ignore him.

"Jafar, Jarfar!" The princess's body tensed at the obnoxious sound of Jafar's bird. His voice itched her nerves. She would love to humbly tell the bird to fuck off, but she was sure her words would take offence. Slowly she let her eyes fall into a deep glare each time its wings flapped closer. Tightly she turned to gaze her annoyance at the damned thing. "Jafar, I found the lamp!"

Her heart clenched as she watched as the bedazzling black metal fell into his slender fingers. Everything began to ease into that very moment, she had no time to think about her actions, or to care about her indecency, but her body lurched towards the lamp. She felt like a snake being lulled into a charmers dance, but she rather didn't care. She wanted the lamp, at this very moment it belonged to her. Her small fingers ringed around, wrapping so tight that she could dare anyone to try and take it from her. Her body was burning; its heat eclipsing that part of her heart in pure perfection, like dark presence cloaking around her. It belonged to her, it was her. She'd be damned if she'd let it go, so she let her glare dash up at the man who stood so curiously in front of her.

"Interesting." The amused smile on his face, made her want to regret moving, but she'd rather had been raped than to show her insecurities now. The man towered over her, far more powerful and strong, she knew this but she would show him her strengths in return. She allowed herself to stand tall, so her glare could be seen, so he would know she would never back down. She pulled hard on the lamp, ripping it from Jafar's fingers. Her darkness waved, agitated, as she let lamp drop to her side. She wanted it closer, she wanted to hold it to her abdominal and not let it go, but she would not. Her breath was steady, yet shaking; she couldn't explain how it felt to have the lamp close to her again.

She didn't think twice about pushing past the man in front of her, she shoved him out of her way and marched. Her feet kicking through the awaiting desert night, her body shaking. It was still dead weight, so tired from the endless walking. It didn't want to move an inch further, it ached and it shook beneath her. She would not allow herself to stop, not yet. She had to go back… to go home… Her heart hurt, it already knew her loss, but her mind would not believe it until there was proof. She would not stop for any man, no matter who got in her way, even the sorcerer. A bitter taste grew in her mouth. She seemed outraged at the thought of him, she hated him with all her being, but the things she welcomed into her soul seemed amused by his presence. She was angry, she was frightened. She loved how these emotions would rock over her, yet, she would give sway to none, and she would be strong.

Happiness is bliss, and it is fragile. Sadness is helpless and overpowering. Fear is relentless and you may never show it, for fear kills. Anger is an adolescent emotion you must control, but it can be harnessed with the right amount of intelligence, then and only then can anger can be power. She felt emotionless to everything in the darkness and it made her powerful, but it also made her breakable like glass.

Each step she took, she grew more irritated. He was fallowing her, rest assured she did have his lamp, but the way his eyes roamed over her made her want to snap. Her fist gripped tighter, the metal in one hand melded into her skin, while the bone of the blade's handle seemed to chafe her other. Her mind froze, realising she still held the knife in her slim fingers. She almost stopped moving from the shock. Her eyes gazed over the blade, watched as the man's blood dripped from its tip. Her stomach turned, and her knees almost buckled against her will. She forced herself to look away from it, it was to useful to let go of, but sickening to even look at. She shuffled quicker through the sand, bitterness boiled over her. This would have been far easier if the horses hadn't run off.

"Where do you think you are going Princess?"

"Back." Her voice was like venom. She would not hold pointless conversation and waist time while her country needed her. She would return.

"Do tell dear Princess, to what?" Jafar had pondered on her statement for a moment, seeing if she would have the decency to answer. Of course she ignored him. "Judging by the men chasing after you surly it is ruins, death, and perhaps the head of your beloved street rat humbly sitting upon a pike?"

She turned on him, crimson dagger raised. "Do not speak to me of things you do not understand." Her eyes look as dangerous as her knife; they would have caved holes into his flesh if they had to power to.

"What is there not to understand Princess," She watched a smile twist his face. He leaned into her blade, pushing it into his skin, just so he was face to face with her. Her eyes left his face for a moment to look at the blade against his throat. It felt wrong. "I can tell you this very moment that I'm beginning to understand everything." Slowly her onyx eyes flickered back up at him. His face was heavily painted in his amusement. "Your street rat played with fire and got himself burned."

Her brows scrunched together, she could feel the heat of his breath on her face, and the tingle of his gaze… she hated it. She hated him. She wouldn't stand for his ruthless words; she swiped the blade that dug so deliciously deep in his neck, then came stumbling forward when her knife hit nothing. Her obsidian eyes dashed across the desert sands, finding not a thing to be seen. There was only sand in her horizons, for a moment she was alone again.

Heat, it was there again pushing against the naked flesh of her back. Arms laced around the curve of her hips and fingers latched to her naked skin. Fingers that were far too close to her inner thigh for comfort. "Remember Princess," They move, sliding sickly against her skin, groping in ways that remained to her of the barbarians. She could feel her body freeze, fear sticking like lightning in her heart. "It was I who killed those men, I who saved you. I can do everything they would have and far worse. Do. Not… threaten me."

"Why…" Her voice was far more monotone now than it had ever been before.

"Oh, do be more elaborate, princess."

"Why would you save me...," She slowly glanced over her shoulder, taking in his darkness behind her. "You and I both know I did not mention when they would be dead… my wish could have made them die with old age, die after they were done with me. You did not have to save me. You choose to."

He chuckled at her; she grew up a lot in the short year he was gone, he'd give her that. It hardly surprised him though, she probably was the only one who actually knew how to run the country decently, but, being a woman no one would listen to anything she would have to say. Either way it left them helpless with a half-wit and a street rat ruling the county. "You are correct. I did, in fact, choose to 'save' you my dear."

"Why." Her words were harsh, striking out without second thought. She hated his games, she hated everything he was… and he just loved how tempting playing her 'darkness' was, so bitter and bloodthirsty, so she knew he'd purposely push her to the edge.

"Let us say," His fingers moved again, feeling her raw skin till fingers touch fingers. He pulled them into sight, her eyes falling upon the black lamp in her fingers. It drew her in, making tense shoulders loosen and all her angry seeming to dissipate. Then his hand curled around her neck, his lips dancing against her ear and it made that abyss inside her want to dance with it. "That we have made a personal compromise… Pussycat."

She felt relaxed, she felt memorised; yet, idea of it was… forbidden. Her skin crawled beneath his touch, but there were things she could no longer understand. How could she understand; there were things she wasn't even sure she wanted to. She gazed back at him, horrified, tempted and anticipating the worst to come. "What would this 'compromise' be, exactly?" The look in his face was victorious, she didn't like it. She didn't like how it felt to lose to the likes of him, it made her innards want to twist, nauseated. She closed her eyes, beginning to feel Claustrophobic in his embrace, like everything she knew in this very instant was about to close in on her. Her legs tensed together closing herself off, shivering for what was to come.

Then it was gone, his touch, the fear and anticipation… everything. She felt cheated for a moment, enraged then used. She was socked to realise that she in fact felt rather disappointed. She tested opening her eyes, half expecting him to still be behind her, but when they fluttered open she only found the moon staring back at her. She search around her, he was gone same with damned bird. She slowly looked at the lamp in her hand, confused as to why he left. The air she didn't realise she held seemed to escape her lungs at that moment, pushing her body back into its feeble state. All the exhaustion that she was pilling on top of herself finally wore her down. That small quake in her knees caused a buckle that sent her back into the awaiting sand. She knew, if it hadn't have been for the attack she couldn't have had the power to move herself any further. She would have died there. Fear and adrenalin moved her unwilling body, now it ran itself dry, powerless to do anything but wait. She sat there bewildered in the moment. She couldn't sleep yet, she wouldn't make it through the night. She tried to push herself to stand, but her body screamed in denial. It wouldn't move an inch more; she was already at her limit. Her breath was quickly growing heavy in her lungs.

That egotistical son of a bitch!

Her mind raged, throwing the lamp into the sand as hard as she could. He knew she wasn't at her limit, he knew she was going to crumple beneath her own weight. She wanted to scream at him, use the last of her strength to strangle the ego right out of him. She glared down at the black metal and seethed. He dared to leave her in this state. She reached for the lamp, only to have a wave of dizziness wash over her, and then panic. She braced herself, one hand in the sand to keep herself up while the other reached for her precious object. This sensation began to drown her in the sickening curl, her body gave up. Her thoughts were becoming unreadable, her body unmovable, and all she could feel was the pain. It rocked over her, forcing the rest of her body to cringe into the sand below. She wrapped her fingers around the lamps handle, pulling into her chest. A horrid magic seemed to spill over her, making the lamp seem comforting to hand close at hand. She held on as the darkness took a hold and sucked her back into the abyss. It was haunting how slowly it seemed to cloud over, that moment where your body accept it's dying. Ironic how now her mind was the one who fought to survive. So it continued to fight as she slowly was drug under, the sound of wind humming softly in her ears and haunting trot of horses drumming closer, lulling her into the abyss with fear lacing its tune. Yes, her situation was ironic indeed.

* * *

A/n- _fixed somethings up in this chapter. :)_

_Tell me what you think! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review. Thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Screams danced across her marble room. The sounds humming into the flicker of fire, an empty fear trickled into her soul. Lost at the torcher, watching as so many probably burned alive in their own homes. Tears began to weld up from how the pain eclipse over her heart. Her fingers gripped her railing, gazing over those large stone walls. Her legs gave beneath her as she continued to silently watch through the gaps of marble. Strange warriors were breaking down the palace gates, killing all in their way. Servants and soldiers, man and woman alike… only difference was the women would meet a heart breaking torment before they would be ripped from their lives._

_ Rape…_

_Her fingers fell to her side in defeat. Her body swayed in disbelief and her silent tears dripped from her cheeks. Her people…the lives she swore to protect… suffering and she could not do a thing about it._

_In the corner of her mind she could hear the yelling of her name being muffled by the large doors. Fists would bang away at the wood, frightened at what may be found inside. Surly men where already inside, and she would be a main target. The man screaming outside her lock door loved her. She knew that. She loved him too, but he was the one to cause this and it made her bitter at the sound of his voice. His body began to collide with the door, until it broke under the constant pressure. He stumbled in, yelling out for her. Silence meets the air when he saw her against the balcony rails, leaning into the cold marble, staring at the death below. His naked feet clapped against the floor, slowly working their way to her. _

_"Jasmine…" She wouldn't look at him; she didn't even return his that worried strain in his voice. _

_"This is your fault." Her voice was naught but a hallow whisper; she doubted he even heard her. She felt dead watching the suffering of her kingdom. Empty and broken; she almost felt like those meaningless feelings of 'love' where empting out into the soundless tears on her face. Anything she seemed to know about herself was dying in the flames of her kingdom. She forced herself to look back at him. His face was empty, like nothing happened. The orange glow of the burning city danced across his face, tainting his pure image in her people's blood. Those meaningless tears fell hard as she pushed herself from the ground, throwing her tiny hands into his body, doing little but push him back. "You killed them!" She pushed him harder, her heart was tearing and her throat felt like it had embers coursing down it. "You killed them!" his hands wrap around her wrists the moment they became fists, stopping her from the impact against his chest. She lurched forward, face against his naked skin. Feeling her body shaking and her knees threatening to fall weak he slowly laced his arms around her. He hugged her as tight as he could, even kiss her hair. She cried into him, she cried the hardest than she ever had before and he held onto her for ever second she did. His strong arms kept her standing, even though she couldn't bare it. Tiny fingers tangled into his violet linen shirt helplessly. "You did this…" _

_"I know." Her breath caught in her chest at his voice, realising how tightly he was holding on. He kissed her hair again, accepting her anger. She felt heavy in his arms as he slowly picked up her body, cradling it against his own. He was taking her away, into the corridors where screaming people dashed about, trying to flee for their lives. She watched, downing in her own sorrow. There were lifeless bodies on the ground; children crying while they stand next to murdered parents, women whose clothing were torn and bloody. Blood painted the golden walls... Everything seemed lost and her 'hero' seemed to bypass them all, their sad lives going unnoticed. _

_"Go back…" her voice was raspy from her crying, almost going unheard. He didn't react to her words, so she pushed. "Go back!"_

_"I can't…" dread washed over her. She tried to push herself from him, to be removed from his arms so she could go back for them. He held on tighter, so she couldn't move. _

_"Let go of me!" Struggling she pushed against him, kicking her legs. "Let go!" She felt the support under her legs disappear and her body was tossed against the nearest wall. Hands against her wrists, body almost against body. His face was empty, eyes full of regret. _

_"I won't, I will never let go. Not now." Fear poked needles into her chest as she gazed up at him. He had never acted like this before. He never had been so afraid to lose her and she had never been so afraid of his actions. For the first time he didn't have a plan… for the first time he had lost. His head hung as she stared at him. "I won't lose you…" _

_She wanted to comfort him, hold his head against her chest and stroke his hair. She moved to speak when the metallic shine cut off her words. It's glare bearing down from above them. There was a sudden blur of the blade and the only things her mind could seem to muster was the shock. Watching, knowing the worst. _

_Blood has an awful taste and felt clammy against her skin. She didn't comprehend what had happened… but it wiped away everything in a mere second._

* * *

Her body was overcome with shock, pulling her from dark memories that haunted her dreams. Quickly she reached out for a ledge, pulling her body from the depth of cold water. She gasped for air, coughing up the water she inhaled from the unexpected plunge. Her hair clung to her shoulders, her skin completely nude. She took in the sight, the dirt washing away from the water. She glared at it, the water did nothing; she still felt dirty. "Wonderful of you to rejoin the land of the living." A man's voice shook over her. He sounded sophisticated, and cold hearted, his words actually having no heartfelt worry of her. She curled closer to the water, hands cupping her exposed breast. "Please do not cover; it would be a shame to hide them." She cupped herself harder. He spoke like he knew, but she knew that he probably did. Slowly she gazed back.

He had sharp features and a bold chin, a man you could defiantly call Handsome. Clothed in fine silk pants with an expensive looking blue cloth wrapped around his waist, His chest was bare, yet he still look so elegant. He had mid back length ebony curls, and golden brown skin. Well-built and strong muscles sculpted his entire frame, perfect head from toe. She was captivated by his eyes, the way they fluttered against her skin was alluring, provocative and she wasn't exactly sure if she enjoyed or hated it. She noticed how he was leaning against large bed. Its bedding made from the finest Egyptian cotton, the colors of deep reds. She realised how luxurious this room looked, defiantly a room of a man who had plenty of wealth. Her eyes caught him again when he moved, his body leaving the comfort his bed to drift towards her. The smirk on his face looked far too triumphant to be comforting. "I certainly found myself a little treasure have I not?" His voice was so exotic to her ear. He knelt down to the bath's edge, arms leaning lazily against the rim. "A rare and beautiful desert bloom."

Instantly she hated the words that left him mouth, it reminded her far too much of Jafar. That damned man, leaving her in such a state. She could feel the shortening of words hit her. The lamp… where was the lamp? Desperately she began to look around the tent, completely ignoring the man who watched her so curiously. She moved to stand, but a hand laid on her shoulder and kept her from doing so. She looked at him, an untrusting gaze itching into his skin. He smiled in return. He stood then, a bottle of oils in his hand, he moved to the end of the tub so he had access to her hair. She followed him, watching as he dumped some into his hands then reached to massage them into her tattered hair. His fingers stroked her scalp, easing away all her worries with each circle. She could feel herself leaning into his touch, her mind so desperate for time to wash away all her worries. Her eyes drifted, half lidded in bliss. Scents of sweet honey and jasmine lingered in the air, threatening to drift her back into the darkness where sleep could haunt her. She could hear the hum of laughter come from deep in his chest as he played with her long hair. "Something tells me you have been through a lot." His fingers eased through the knots in her hair, bit by bit he returned her locks back into the silk it had once been. She lightly moaned out the last of her stress, her body finding peace at his touch. His finger moved to her shoulder's working the tense muscles. She let her head rest back against the rim of the tub. She felt at home again, with the servant's making her baths a lot more relaxing with the luxury of massage.

Home…

This wasn't home… She forced her eyes open, finding the handsome man staring down at her, enjoying the sight of her relaxing beneath his touch. His gaze made her feel uncomfortable. She began to realise she had given up trying to cover herself during the time he was washing her hair. She felt a pang of guilt, the people who bathed her at home where always women, she had forgotten where she had been and exposed her body. There was a dark rush beneath that thought. Her body had already been tainted, though it wasn't completely ruined. Sadly she looked away from him, giving up on protecting herself. "There is no reason to be shy. Your body is one to be displayed, not hidden." His large hands stroked across the tender flesh, making her flinch. He laughed as she glared up at him. "For a woman found wandering half naked in the desert you act awfully conceded. Rather like a woman who's never been touched." There was a fear in her eyes he left unnoticed. Her knees curled forwards, dunking her body under the cold water until it touched her lips. She wanted to avoid his touch, knowing exactly what it may lead to. She watched as he sucked in a sharp breath, head tilting to the side pondering the possibility. "You have… been with a man before, have you not?"

She remained silent.

A hand slip into his beautiful curls, and an irritated groan left his lips. "Fuck, here I was hoping to keep you." she wasn't going to lie, she was startled by is words. She watch him as he began to pace, long legs strutting back and forth from the bed to her, trying to find a way around his sudden predicament. His long fingers tapped against his chin, and his eyes watched her closely in return of her own gaze. Stopping in front of his beautiful bed he allowed himself to fall back against it. "Fuck." All she could see over the tub's edge was his waist down, and her eyes defiantly stumbling across the hard appendage making it know under the silk. She looked away quickly. Those… things where scary; were they normally that big? If they were she didn't know how other women managed. Men frightened her; they all seemed to think with to wrong body part when it came to women. Its weakness took control over any other emotion or sense of morals. She lowered herself in the water, nose deep. She glanced around the room, trying to find the closest exit just in case she needed to make a run for it. There was a thick cloth door around the corner of the large room, she caught the small edge of the red cloths and recognised it instantly. That was a way out and she was ready to run if she needed to. Silently she listened to the sound of his breathing, he hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, surprisingly she was thankful for that.

She let her fingers run through the stands of wet hair that swayed in the mesmerising glow of the water. Guilt, for some reason swayed as desperately the water did. Other men had seen her naked flesh, while her fiancée had not. He had hardly even kissed her; it was a rare time when they would be serious enough to be romantic. They had been so caught up with living their blissful lives that they forgot that love also involved being intimate. She glanced down at the naked flesh hidden under her blanket of black strands. Her lower body still felt dirty, like even if she scrubbed the flesh till it bled the stain would still be there. Teeth dug into her lips, thinking of how he would react. How emotionless would his face be? How much rage would be in his eyes? Her heart ached, he couldn't react… he'd never know even if she wanted him to. There was a throb in the darkness, silently advising her to stop thinking.

She wanted to forget…. But she couldn't.

There was a hand around her wrist, dragging her from the water and tossing her soaking wet onto the cotton sheets. Dumbstruck she laid there for a moment wondering why she didn't noticing him move, then realising she had been too distracted with her thoughts to even notice if someone had screamed into her ear. His body loomed over her, over shadowing her entire fame. The darkness in her soul purred in awe at the look on his face, it was such a pure lust that it sinful to even behold. Slowly she moved back, trying to gain space between her naked chest and his. Her eyes dashed about his face, confused when his fingers gripped her chin. Lips met lips, forcing the breath from her lungs. She screamed into it the moment she realised exactly what was going on, then his large hand clamped over her mouth, forcing the silence into her. Fists bounced against his abdominal, for the first time she struggled to be free and it was freighting to learn how helpless she really was, she didn't have a fighting chance. His hands locked around her wrists, pinning them above her head. He leaned into her small body, face in her neck and his hips rocking longingly against hers. He groaned, somehow still sounding irritated. "Damn it woman." He gazed up at her, eyes glazed over in heat. The darkness puffed deep inside her, warming like butter in her gut. She didn't like the new emotion's this abyss kept on introducing into her body. They were foreign, and frightening because of the possibilities. She wanted nothing to do with them. In her last second of panic she felt her knee collide with the soft tissue between his legs. She moved the moment his body gave under the pain. He rolled off her, groan of hurt deep in his throat.

She ran, heart rising in anticipation as she rushed towards the door. This time she would be free, this time she could save herself. There was a joyous leap as her fingers reached for the cloth, so eager to get beyond them.

A small painful scream ripped from her lips when her body was ripped back, the strain that came from her hair being tugged on was almost unbearable. Instinctively she reached for the hand in her hair, small fingers pleading for the pain to end. Her body crashed into his, one arm wrapping around her waist while the free hand made sure she could not scream. Lips pressed up against her ear, as he slowly backed them up, away from the door. "Trust me; going out that door will lead you to worse things. There is no freedom behind that door, only men who will take your sweet untouched 'flower' and tare it to shreds in the most painful way you could think of." She stiffened against him, and then a sigh breezed against her skin. "If they find out your untouched… then I cannot keep them from doing so."

Uncertainty lingered in her. That was the seconded time he mentioned that she was not to be virginal, how he couldn't claim her because she was. As much as the idea being claimed pissed her off she was confused. How was that a problem, she thought that men… liked it better? She felt embarrassed; did men actually not like virgins? There was a laugh behind her, like he had been listening to her thoughts. His hand let go of her lips, tenderly dragging across them then down her chin, neck… then in between her breasts. Instantly she leaned back into him, trying to remove his hand, only to have her ass push against the foreign appendage that eagerly awaited her touch. "Those men are the part owners of a very large harem, and enjoy testing out their merchandise. You have been taken here as a slave, so I claimed you as mine." Her unknown feels began to twist in her gut, turning into that deep hatred she was beginning to grow so fond of. "But, if they find you are untouched…" is voice lowered into a growl. "They will auction it to the highest bidder."

She choked on her breath, saying the only thing she could muster. "No…"

"You cannot let them fucking know, it'll be our little secret do you understand me?" Slowly she nodded, fearing the possibilities. She knew there was probably a 'but' that came with his words; she wasn't all that concerned at the moment of what it could be. To be sold to the highest bidder… were women always treated as such? Like animals to be bought and sold? She turned to face him slowly, taking in his handsome features. She could see he was trying to hold back on touching her, trying at least. For a moment he gave in, moving his face closer to her in need to have her lips. Fingers laced against her thigh's pulling her legs around his hips and her back against the closets wall. He pushed against her and her lips shuttered against the moan in her throat.

She hated herself. That sweet darkness was playing her like it was the puppet master, pulling all her strings. It clouded her mind and craved for power; the more intensive this burning in her abdominal got the more hungry for it the darkness was. She quivered under his touch, this was his 'but', they only way they did not know she was a virgin… was her not to be one for long. She felt her abyss smile. It was frightening to say she could feel the abyss in her soul smile. It wasn't something she wanted to be proud of. Her hips returned each grind, each push for more. The power she had over this man was driving her mad. She felt herself reaching to touch him, to touch his desirable body while he deepened their kiss. It turned into a deep battle between their tongues, both demanding dominance. Nails dugs into the flesh on his back as his fingers caressed the skin of her breast. Fondling the tender skin beneath weary fingers, she moaned into his kiss, almost demanding more.

She began to shake, the abyss of her soul overcoming her gut twisting fear. She wanted to stop, she wanted to run. Fear… and lust, what a terrible mixture.

Two voices slowly traveled down the corridor, slowly making their way towards the door. "Found the bitch two nights ago. The fucker claimed her the moment we even set eyes on the minx." The man speaking was obviously older. His voice raspy with age, a bitter laugh rocked through him. She could feel anger bubble in her chest. She wanted them to go the fuck away; they were getting far too close to this room. The man below her moved deliciously, forcing a sweet noise to leave her throat. Her neck arch back, chest pushing forward and lips flicked against her breast. She could almost feel her toes curl. She had forgotten about the other men, who at that moment, slipped back the thick red curtains to walk into the tempting scene.

The amused laugh of the old man made her freeze. The man beneath her let out a low growl against her chest. "Go… Away Makia."

Makia chuckled. "Oh, I would not even if I didn't have a reason to be here. May I be fucking damned; she is quite the beauty isn't she. You will have to let me have a ride on the bitch, Ramses." Jasmine didn't know what to do; the embarrassment knocked the sense back into her. She had been completely overcome with the need that she had forgotten what happened not to long before. How could allow this… after that? She felt disgusted with herself. "Now, do tell Sir, is this the lovely cunt you were speaking of?"

A deep chuckled danced against her ear and her heart dropped. "Well, you are certainly not exactly a damsel in distress are you, Pussycat?"

Once again words seemed to leave her, but she managed at least one to leave her lips. She looked at him. A shadow swept deep in his eyes, and hate seemed to loom over his figure. She couldn't explain how frightening he looked, staring down at her. He certainly didn't enjoy the sight, and she almost wanted to beg for forgiveness. "Jafar…"

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A/n- Y_ay new chapter! Tell me what you think! Please R&R, i really love hearing what you guys think :)_

_Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

A/n- _Hello Everyone. I'm back with a new chapter; I hope you all enjoy the read._

_I've realised I have not put a warning the story, I will be going back to correct that. _

_I warn you now that this story is dark, containing violence, sexual violence, strong langue and (later) rape. The story will become more violent in later chapter, especially in what I have planned in the next upcoming chapter. If you are not above the ages of 18, I highly recommend not reading. Though, in the end it is your choice. Sorry guys! _

_Enjoy!_

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Her body stiffened. The fire in his eyes rocked over her senses and made her want to crawl into a hole. She curled into herself, hoping her clinging long hair covered her exposed flesh. Her heart drummed unmercifully in her ear, blood throbbing with threat. Instantly her eyes shifted to the man in front of her, panting like a dog in heat as he seemingly glared back at her. "Jafar?" The moment the sorcerer's name left her captor's mouth she panicked. He was really there. Her hands shot out, shoving hard into Ramses' chest. A grunt surpassed his lips as he stumbled back, leaving the young princess to drop to the floor. Her back hit the stone loudly but with a quick lunge she was on her feet, backing away from the man in red. Her head shook, as she tripped backwards. It took two swift strides of Jafar's longs lags to reach her. She moved to run, crouching to push off into a sprint but his long finger latched onto her petite wrists, jerking her back in front of him.

"How dare you lay your hands upon me, let go this very instant!" Her nails clawed into his knuckles, demanding freedom.

"Do not talk down to me, Jasmine. I certainly, am not the one scantily clad in the arms of a strange man. A man, of which, plans take advantage of all your sweetness. To think you have the nerve to believe that stranger has more right to touch you than I?" She could feel his laughter rumble against her toned skin, sending shivers down her spine. She was embarrassed of herself; she did not know how she allowed herself to do such a… humiliating thing. Her eyes searched his face, finding an unknown hunger lurking deep in black sea of his eyes. She felt drawn to the idea; pondering what exactly this emotion was. "It is sad how wrong you are my dear. I own you." She froze… He what?

"The hell you do!"

With a remarkable grace he lifted her arm above her head, earning a shrilled cry from the princess. Her toes lifted from the ground and her shoulder blade threatened to pop beneath the pressure. "We made an agreement for my cooperation in saving you, do you recall or must I remind you. "The tone in his voice was vile, like poison to the ears. Her feet reached out for the floor, desperately trying to take the weight of her body off her arm. The more she moved the more painful it became, so she allowed her body to dangle. Her stomach dropped. She did not like the way he was looking at her, It was murderous. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" Her voice hardly choked out the answered, the pressure of shoulder was creating a fussing haze in her thoughts, making everything harder to process. "Yes, I recall the agreement. Jafar, please," Her body was full of mixed emotions; the lust from earlier still pulsing through her veins, the fear had become twice as thick. She groaned; she wasn't sure if that dark puppeteer in her was finding this sexual or abusive. "Please…" She tried pleading again.

A deep growl pondered from behind Jafar. "Mind explaining to me what the fuck is going on?" Jafar glanced back at the man. Jasmine let out a relieved sigh as her toes touched the cobble stone floor. She stumbled, the weight of her own body feeling abnormal to her legs. He caught her tumbling body, pulling it deep into his grip, arm wrapped around her waist protectively. She flushed; Jafar protecting her felt very… different.

"I believe the situation is quite understandable." His voice bit at Ramses, practically daring him to advance. She was shocked as she watched Jafar remove his long cape and snuggly wrap it about her shoulders. Was he… helping her? She felt a quick squeeze against the cloth before Jafar turned on the man. "This woman is not only far beyond your standards, but she is also called for."

"Really?" Ramses sounded extremely amused by the fact, and chuckled. He took a strut forward, his lean muscles flexed, still shining from her wet skin. Jasmine could not help but drink in the sight of him, her tongue dragging against her lower lip in a sweet need. He looked like a foreign god, with his perfect physique. His eyes fell to her; she could bet he could feel the lust practically fume off her. His golden eyes tempted her to go back into his arms, beg for more. Her breath shuttered. "You do not assume to know me. I in fact, am of royal blood; nothing is out of my standards. Besides, the lovely lady does not seem called for and she certainly does not act like she is called for." Jasmine cringed at that comment; mentally cursing herself on how careless she was. "If she is called for by any man then it is me, because I have no intention of letting her go." That darkness inside of her puffed, it liked believing it held power over such a godlike specimen.

"Well, well, the princess of Agrabah has been snatch up by a prince of Egypt. How quaint. Why Jasmine only if you had met him before your idiotic street rat, maybe the city would still be in one piece." She never missed the sarcastic venom hidden deep in his words.

"Princess of Agrabah?"

She collided her body into Jafar's, throwing him off balance and to glare back at her. Neither man expected her to attack him. "Do not dare speak of him!" Her voice was ragged with rage. She advanced on him, her darkness burning like wild fire in her lungs. She felt the need for blood to soak her skin, the need of vengeance. Her hands fisted, trying to contain herself but desperately failing. She moved to attack before realising he disappeared again. "Stop. Doing that!" She was irritated. Why could he not just take a hit just once? She took a look around the room, finding Ramses watching her intently, smile broad on his face.

"I will do no such thing. I know exactly what kind of violence you are capable of pussy cat." His voice echoed about the room, but his presence didn't exist in the surrounding area.

"Princess?" Ramses let the word roll off his tongue once more. "My, well that does explain lot, or does it not flower?" Jasmine felt the rage the rage dissipate with the way he was looking at her, flicking the switch to something far sultrier. She felt her abdominal heat over and her cheeks flushed. He had to bring that up…

"Where the fuck did he go?"

"He is a sorcerer, Makia. It is a rare and remarkable ability that bends magic to his will." Ramses seemed unaffected by Jafar's disappearance. He moved for the princess, eyes keeping complete captivation of hers. "Princess, I am sorry to hear of your kingdom's situation."

The darkness shuttered in her eyes. "I do not need pity."

"Why not, you must have run for at least two days to have ended up here. To have endured a lot more than you allowed to be shown, I could not even imagine." He moved closer, fingers tracing the curved of her face. "How sad."

"I said I do not need your pity!" She could have sworn her hands had shot out in front of her, trying to assault the Egyptian man. She looked up to see her fists stopped short of their destination, locked in long fingers. To her surprise the hand didn't belong to Ramses.

"Do not touch." Jafar pulled her back from Ramses, refusing to let the Egyptian to move any closer. She saw challenge in Ramses eyes, which in turn Jafar must have been returning. She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes over the fact they looked like two rabid dogs fighting over the same chunk of meat as they glared at one another. Her horrid split self was humbly amused by the fact, she liked being the piece of meat… while Jasmine found it rather insulting.

Men never got over their ego did they?

"Her body is mine, we made a deal."

"I am afraid that I must dampen your spirit then sorcerer. I have claimed her as my own."

"What, exactly, gives you the right to such a claim?"

"I am the Prince of Egypt, and owner of this brothel, I claim what I wish."

"Arrogant little bastard."

"Greedy old fucker"

"Enough!" Jasmine felt like her head was swimming. She couldn't handle the two of them in the same room. She felt like vomiting from the overwhelming pride these men fumed off. Her body was rushing with heat, from anger and embarrassment. Her breath was low, and shallow, trying to calm her thundering heart. "I am not some… some _zonah_ you can own!" She let the anger roll off her tongue, soaking each word in her own taint. "Now remove your hands before I take pleaser in doing it myself." Her words where came slowly, daring the sorcerer to ignore her. His grip loosened, and she snatched her wrists back, pulling far harder than needed. She softly rubbed them; they felt bruised after he lifted her from the floor. She couldn't believe their attitude, insulting her morals. Her dark soul was greatly amused by her bitter act. She took a look around the room, finding a chest; it was large and profoundly decorated. With the hopes of clothing she headed for it. She'd be damned if she sat around much longer in the bare roots of her flesh with nothing more than a cape to cover her. A shiver crawled down her spine, especially with the way these men watched her. It was revolting. She flipped the lid of the chest hastily, finding a spray of cloth inside. Dropping the heavy silk about her shoulders she grabbed the first shirt in sight, pulling it over her head with a deep huff. It hung low on her thighs, refined white cotton decorated in golden thread. It had a deep cut in the neck of the shirt, dangling mid chest and tied with leather sting. She sighed, it would work for now. Her feet dragged lazily on to ground when she turned back to look at them. Swiftly she slipped her hands under the nap of her neck, pulling her long wet locks from under the cloth. She glared at them; both of their eyes were all over her, like they were inspecting the invisible marks that belonged to the other man. "Stop that."

"What is he too you?" Ramses voice hummed over her. "You both seem extremely familiar for him just to be 'someone' who saved your life. You call him by name." Jasmine was confused, he was very observant, and it through her off guard.

"He used to be the Royal Vizier of my father's kingdom." She gripped the sleeves of the oversized shirt tightly. She did not like talking about Jafar, especially when he was standing there watching her. Hesitantly she gazed down at the cape around her ankles. She would feel much better with both the cape and the shirt wrapped around her.

"You must be jesting; your father had appointed a sorcerer in the position of the royal Vizier?" Ramses shuffled a laugh. The princess made best to ignore the two of them, she bent down, dripping the silk cape tightly. She hugged it to her chest with a sigh; she hated listening to their bitter tones. Wrapping it around herself she looked up at them. "To no surprise he turned on the city."

"Do tell, Egyptian. How is it you know so much about the politics of Agraba?"

"I make it my business to know everything about the surrounding countries, even more so when I invest in a business." Jasmine was appalled.

"Business?" Her words were very sharp. "I see no business here, only the trade of slaves and your whores."

"A business in the trade of woman and slaves is known to be the most successful business to invest one 'self in. At least, in these parts it is." Ramses moved. There was a large desk, decorated in fine wines and hard liquors. Scrolls, papers and inks were scattered about it. Obviously he was not lying about in the investments. His fingers dragged across the sheer paper, a smirk twisting his lips. "Agrabah is the number one capital to make business in slavery. No other county buys or sells more in the subject. Especially at the moment, the war is doubling the amount of sales." Her heart seized.

"This is of no surprise, while the Arcadians take pleasure in raiding the city walls I am positive they are finding more in the brothels. Agrabah is littered with them. What is a man of war who does not stop for a good tumble along the way?" Jasmine's eyes rested on Jafar, utterly horrified. Her eyes danced across him, searching for any means of false speech. There was tense humor in his eyes as he soaked in her reaction; obviously she had no idea of the cities filth. Being a woman she had no right to know of such things, the cities problems would have never been discussed with her. The only people, other than himself, who could have possibly known were the wretched street urchin and the childish sultan. "Your 'husband to be' was not kind enough to explain such things, my dear?" A wall built up inside her chest at his words. Being a princess she never saw outside the palace walls until recently, she knew of the brothels but she had not known they were in such high numbers. Quickly she looked around the room; idea's flying through her mind.

"This brothel, where is it?" Her eyes dashed from man to man.

"This brothel in particular is 300 miles from the capital of Agrabah, an active rout for the Arcadians." Her eyes froze on him, breath practically halting in her chest. The black haze of her eyes flickered dangerously. The idea was haunting, running deep in her blood, pounding a nightmarish tint through her heart. It thumped, agitated, through her, fuzzing her mind over in a red haze. An active rout for the barbarians, a trail they followed to her home. A sexual pit stop. Her eyes fell heavy, half lidded in the hatred. A smirk drifted against her lips as the puppeteer reared its ugly head.

"I am your slave am I not?" Silence rang through the air and Ramses stared in wonder, the look of success could not be more potent on his face.

"Yes, in fact you are." His gaze addressed Jafar in arrogant victory.

"Give me something to ware, the gown of one of your… women." She spat the word; she did not see them as real women. They were nothing more than pets. "Personally I would prefer the colors of red." They way her large eyes hovered half lidded seemed sultry. She was manipulating the man. Jasmine had a body made for sin, a body made to ravish, and she knew it. She used it to humiliate men or just to get her way. Jafar took notice of how she purposely swayed her hips, rolled her shoulders. She controlled men like she did horses, holding them by the rein, leading them on. Attentively her eyes fluttered against him, long eyelashes brushing against her brows. Watching her grow up Jafar had seen this act far too many times, and men would always bend to her will. His eyes narrowed. Spoiled child the princess had been, manipulating everyone in sight. The princess had grown to hate him when she had realized the sorcerer was the only man she could not push into obedience. Jafar was the only man to challenge her.

"You are a dangerous woman, princess." Ramses voice was husky. He had been affected by her gaze, no doubt, because he had already been against her skin. Felt the touch of her flesh against his. The breath in Jafar's lungs fell low, he hated the idea. He was a man, though it was never shown to her, he too had been drawn into her presence. Only once had he fallen for it, that faithful nigh when she kissed him. He dared for more and envied any man who had received it. "Slaves do not manipulate the Slavers my dear."

Jasmine's feet danced silkily against the floor, feet gracefully pushing forward. She swayed, hands waving with the curve of her body. "Manipulate?" She played coy to the word, her smirk looking deadlier than before. "I only wish to be clothed, is that too much to ask for… master." Ramses groaned.

"You are infuriating."

"You are tempting." There was a fire in her soul, dancing in sweet darkness. She gazed up at him, through the thick curl of her lashes, her nail dragging tenderly against his bare chest. The captivating abyss was leading the way, and she fallowed without hesitation. Jasmine knew how to get what she wanted. Through blood and sweat she would reach her goal. "Cloth me sir, dress me in your finest silk. Have me wait on you hand and foot for your desire alone." Her finger caressed circles into his chest. "Please…"

To her pleasure he sucked in a shallow breath, and it twitched beneath his skin. "Fine…" His voice was deep, quite as he stared down at her lazily. Then his voice came sharp, barking out at the stunned man in the room. "Makia, come with me. You…" He gazed down at her, slowly trailing off. "You stay here." She smiled sweetly as he stormed from the room, the old and fat man in tow behind him.

Instantly her hot gaze fell cold. Jafar smirk at her, forcing a rumbled laughter through his chest. "You are quite the devious minx."

"Where the hell were you?"

"Here."

"Two week's Jafar, they said I was here for two weeks!"

"Unconscious of course, but yes my dear, two weeks is the correct amount."

"Why did you not get me out of here?" Her voice was like razor blades. She was tired of his smart-ass remarks. She stomped towards the tall man before her. "You are the most powerful genie to exist, how is it we are still here?"

"I princess, am bound by the curse of the genie. I cannot wander far from my lamp without being chained back." Lazily he leaned on his golden cobra staff, red smoke peeling off his presence. "Makia has been using my damned lamp as an ordainment, the senile bastard." Jasmine shuffled a bitter laugh from her lips. The man dressed in red looked rather insulted.

"If you had just prevented this then we would not be here." She leaned forward, pushing herself into his personal space. She watched his smile grow; the bitter amusement was becoming something twisted. Provoked by her anger, he too leaned.

"I assumed you would have preferred not to waste your last wish. All would be in vain if I had."

"Cruel." She shivered as his fingers wrapped around a strain of her hair, pulling it to his lips.

"You have not seen cruel my dear." She could see the sensual challenge in his presence. The abyss eased into the idea, wanting to play his game. She had never won against Jafar, not mentally, though physically they had defeated him. In the end he was the only man who could call her bluff, put her back in her place. Growing up she hated it. She wanted men to fall in line behind her, but the vizier was not a man to fall in line. He was a man meant to rule, Jasmine had known that since she met him. The vizier used magic to manipulate the sultan, causing him to rule properly. Ironically without Jafar the sultan was just a child acting confident, but in fact, had no idea on how to play the game of politics. The sorcerer was a powerful man and without him Agrabah was a ruined city. Jasmine was always bitter of the fact; she had always threatened to be rid of him. A bluff, knowing she could never do such a thing. The city would lose far too much without him. It took a few short months to realise her fears where true. The sultan and her peasant love where causing the city to fall into ruins, throwing money into the streets and running the country bankrupt. Trade was falling behind, money was coming in low.

The smoke tangled beneath her ankles. Red twisting in bloody swirls, he began to dissipate in front of her. She took in the spice; the thick fog was alluring to the senses. It wrapped about her legs, tasting her skin. Quickly he tugged the strand of hair, pulling her body into the lean weight of his. Their lips crashed for a brief moment before his body turned into the humid smoke around her. He had beaten her at her own game, she realized that. She had anticipated his touch, seeking more through bitter lies. He manipulated her, like she tried to manipulate him. An angry hum vibrated through her. "You have not seen cruel." She mimicked. Her arms crossed hastily across her chest. "Arrogant." She watched the smoke curled around her before seeping from the room, being pulled back to prison of his lamp. Darkness clouded over her. He had changed her cloths, wrapping her tan skin in fine blood silk. He had dressed her in this decretive wear once before. The strapless halter clung to her breast tightly, dressing her in a second skin. It pushed her breasts greedily upwards keeping them perky and alluring. Her stomach stayed bare, her naked skin glowing beautifully against the golden thread against her waist. Pure gold chains looped decoratively through the band, dangling longingly against the carefully weaved thread. It was low on her hips, pulling dangerously deep on her pelvis. The red silk was tight on her thighs then bundled loosely on her ankles. Cobras decorated the jewelry on her body. She sighed; he would use her cloths to mark ownership on her. Angrily she drugs her fingers through her bangs. "You are a snake Jafar." She almost could hear his haunting laughter aluminate through her.

She moved quickly, wasting no time to leave Ramses' room. She slide through the red curtain, blending herself into the crowed of sullied woman. She ruled over them, her presence captivating and overpowering. Her body was an enchantment to the eyes, as her hips curled into each step. She oozed of confidence, of lust and power. She controlled every sight in the room without a single glance to be spared. Jasmine made a promise to herself; she would be a siren, a monster meant to lure men into their deaths. She would spare no souls. Any Arcadians to cross her path, daft enough to try her charms would meet a miserable end. She followed in step the women in front of her, ignoring the service rooms dressed against the walls. She wanted the room where the men would gather for feasts, to choose the woman of service. She wanted the room where she could pick out her next victim. The woman fell into line behind her, like following a secret command. The fed from her ruined purity, of tainted lust and unconsciously craved for more. The darkness in her soul bubbled as large door greeted her, men stood watching the woman, whips in hand. Guards to watch the merchandise she supposed. The woman piled into the room, dancing the colorful scarfs through the makeshift breeze. One woman fell quickly in step beside her, taking in the princesses' darkness. The woman's eyes did not seem amused. "You mus' be new." The woman had a thick ancient, similar to the slavers. Jasmine ignored her and pushed closer to the questionable room. She was pleased at the sight. Arcadians plastered the room in a drunken bliss, a woman wrapped in each arm. They watched the new arrivals eagerly. "Do no' angry dem'. Dey can be violent when dey take ya."

"Good." The woman was stunned by Jasmine's voice. She slid into a pause as the room fell quite around her. The men had set their sights on her lustrous curves as her fingers slowly lingered up the bare flesh of her abdominal, then into the lengths of her hair. She smiled into the crowed. The darkness of her soul lurched forward, taking control of her actions from this moment on. Her eyes took in their hungry gaze and used it to feed her anger. She would do this for her people; knowing, these men wanted a show, so she be damned if she was not to give it to them. Slowly the humming beat of drums and tambourines echoed into the room, pulling it into a husky atmosphere. Slowly she took one step forward, her feet mating with the beats of the lingering drum. It lulled her in closer, like a succubus calling in her prey. She smiled sweetly at the men who watched her pass, watching as their grips on the women were falling loose. They all would choose her over some dressed up whore. She would lie to them, to lure them into her web of deceit.

One Arcadian man lay sprawled across a cream lounger, countless women crowed around him. They fed him, filled his drinks and even massaged his toned muscles. He smiled smugly at her, expecting her to go running into his arms. The princess made a point in ignoring this man, she graced past him without a second glance, making her way to the bar ahead. She intended to serve the group their drinks, to clean and pay attention to none who pressed more of her. The twisted humor huffed in her chest, pressing the dark smirk against her lips. Men were far too simple minded, and her game was far too easy for her not to win. She picked up a dirty tray to balancing on her open palm, and then upon the tray she placed a jug of wine. The men still silently watched her every movement and the woman glared enviously. She whisked to the drunken souls, refilling their empty cups. Slowly the chatter picked up again, blending with the tempting music in the background. She longingly gazed up at the men she served, manipulating each one in a different way. Their voices sang around her, calling for refreshments, begging to be the next soul she captivated, all except one. He still lazily watched her over the rim of his cup, ignoring the woman who continuously tried to woo him. Her dark soul cooed in awe. This man was evil; she could feel it pulse off him. It was pure from the heart deep and it beckoned like a fire in his golden gaze. His face was emotionless, unreadable but twisted. The barbarian's hair was pulled back into thick braids, dancing across the couch with subtle dominance. These braids were a sign of power. They showed that this man had never been defeated and that he was in charge. Her eyes briefly met his, sparking the sensual heat deep inside her. Her eyes darkened, head tilting questionably under his gaze. Beckoning him silently, daring him to gain her attention. He rolled his wrists, empty goblet awaiting more liquid. His broad chin lifted, blood thirsty eyes dragging across her form. Quickly her brow lifted, a smirk playing idiotically on her features. With the flick of her hips the princess turned her back on the barbaric man, the woman around him gasped, sounding frightened by her actions.

A shiver tingled through her senses. She knew what was to reward her rudeness, no one denied an Arcadian general. There was a squawk of voices, woman scrambling from the marble floor. The man made a stand, and now was heading for her. Jasmine continued; filling awaiting cups along her way until her jug emptied. The general was closing in on her; hastily she sunk into a cloth door, finding it lead to the liquor storage and a dead end. Perfect. She anticipated him to join her shortly because of her actions, she sighed. This man would ravish her in the most dangerous way she could fathom. Beat her until she bagged. She looked around the room quickly, boxed in by thick barrels. She dragged her fingers against the carved wood and eagerly awaited her doom. She could hear his feet clap the stone, the rugged cloth chimed against his skin. She could feel the heat of his body against her back. Simply she was having trouble ignoring him any longer. His hands thumped against the wood on either side of her, trapping her. The abyss purred as she slowly gazed back at him. In his face she could see the anger burn, his body thickly resting against her backside. There was a deep rumble in his chest, sounded offended by her untamed nature. His hands fell instantly abusive, one going scalp deep into her hair, while the other twisted her arm into the curve of her spine. He shoved her hard into the awaiting barrels, his body following lurch of hers, hard and ready. She groaned, cheek pressed into the ruff wood. He applied pressure, forcing a pained quake through her legs. Shoulder throbbing, she could feel her stomach slowly rise into her throat. Inside she was a frightened girl, but outside she was a deceitful murderer, her darkness made sure of that. "I believe you need to be taught some manners." His hips rolled into her, causing to tense muscles to puff in her chest.

He wanted to teach her some manners did he? Jasmine smiled inwardly. Well…let the games begin.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N- Sorry guys, this one is a bit shorter than the others. Enjoy._

* * *

_She felt panicked; her father had no clue how to conduct a war counsel. Yet in the great hall the Arcadians waited, ready to make an offer. Jasmine had the accidental honor of walking into the great hall, unannounced on the group. Her heart sunk immediately. Her father had no clue what he was doing and looked to her fiancé for guidance. She wanted to scream. Her fiancé grew up in poverty, why would her father turn to him? He knew less of politics then her father had! The Arcadians angrily took in her presence; insulted by the fact a woman had entered the room. Jasmine had known from years of schooling; pushed on her by politics to learn for her father's own faulty; that a woman involving herself in the matters of war was a disgrace. A woman who enter the battlefield or took involvement in treaties could be killed on the spot for insulting the superiors. _

_Her heart began to shutter, a thick build of men blocking her view glared down at her. "Jasmine?" Her breath stopped short in her lungs, surly her fiancé would not be stupid enough to call her into this. "Jasmine there you are, come here."_

_"N-no, I am sure that is inappropriate." Slowly she began to back away, watching as the young man began to push through the crowed. "Forgive me for intruding; I had not known there was a meeting…" _

_"No Jasmine, don't go." Tenderly he gripped her hand, encouraging her to return to her father's side with him. She felt like ice beneath the Arcadians gazes, following tightly has her fiancé surly pulled her to their doom. She should have run; she should have controlled the situation. Her eyes roamed to her father, the closer they got the more she realised how bad the situation was. A man towered over him, smugly leaning against the golden elephant tusk on her father's throne, as if he was willing to accommodate it. The top half of his hair was weaved back, braided with precious gems and feathers, while underneath flowed out in thick waves. Hair black as the night sky and the shining gems in his weaves looked brighter than the stars. She flinched when his eyes shifted to her. A scared marked a grotesque line under his eye, the fell to tail over his cheek bone. His eyes were heavy and were painted a piercing ice blue. She had never seen such eyes, it was exotic and unnatural. They raked over her, allowing for a single smirk past his lips before turning back to the sultan._

_"Who may this lovely flower be?" His voice was raspy, deep from years of battling and fatigue. She wanted to curl back into her fiancé; she did not want to be held under their gaze for much longer. _

_"Oh, yes." The sultan stood excitedly, leaping from his throne to wander to her side. "This, King Ares, is my daughter, Princess Jasmine." She watched silently as the man shuffled a laugh back from his lips. It was appalling to see this man lazily seat himself in her father's throne, tossing his feet up over the great tusks. The Arcadian king stretched out, his chest puffing with a deep breath. _

_"So, forgive me sultan but when you insult my men and I in such a manor, how is it you expect to compromise peace?"_

_"I-insult?" Her father voice stuttered out in fear. Jasmine bit her tongue; she couldn't explain to her father, she could not explain to anyone without insulting them more. Her eyes fell pitiful on him. As bitter as she was to the fact, a part of her wished Jafar was still there, he would have fixed this. _

_"I can overlook it this once, sultan." Jasmine wanted to let her heart sore as the relief pooled in her father's face, but she could not help but feel there was an 'if' lingering in his tone. "My men and I will leave your city alone as long as we leave with a splendid bounty under our belts." glacier eyes crashed into her, taking in her exposed flesh eagerly. _

_"Yes," Quickly she looked down at her father, knowing they had no expenses to spare. "Yes, whatever you would like we shall give. Please, just spare the city." _

_"Glad we can come to an agreement." The great king stood his body size and height towering over all. "We will take half the treasury. Oh and I will take one pleasing parting gift." Jasmine's muscles went stiff as he took confident steps towards her. His men laughed in arrogance as he threw her feeble body over his shoulder. She let out a meek scream, too frightened to do any more than that. Her body began to quake in his touch realising that, she, was the parting gift. "This way we can unite the kingdoms, seeing as the city will certainly fall into debt after we leave. In a gracious way we will happily keep the capital afloat in trade, as long as we leave with this." There was a sharp slap against the curve of her cheeks, forcing a mew from her lips. The king chuckled beneath her. _

_"No please, I beg you, do not take my daughter." The king faced her father, leaving her to stare into the blood thirsty crowed behind him. She had never heard her father sound so heart broken, not since her mother had died. There was siren of metal being drawn that made her struggle. The Arcadians would never draw metal in a peace treaty; it was an instant sign of war. The king's hold on her thighs tightened, someone had become hostile. _

_"Put Jasmine down." The new voice was threatening. _

_"Aladdin no!" _

* * *

The memory was beginning to feel hazy. She had been trying to ignore the situation in front of her, trying to ignore the fear. The general had dragged her out of the storage room and tossed her to her knees in front of the crowed. His hand soon returned to her hair, and he began yelling out to his men about how woman should act. It was that reason alone, that she did not bother to listen, no one could tell her how to act. No man would change her ways. Angrily she took in the man's thighs; strapped to his strong legs were daggers, all different shapes and types. Her eyes traveled up to his face. He looked like he was making commands of them. She doubted he would notice of she took one, not that it would be much help. Her fiancé; she sighed… no Aladdin, had taught her how to defend herself. Little things, like how to fight or use acrobats to survive if needed. She had always been a quick leaner, but never actually used it in combat. Tempted by the idea she let her finger wanders, her gaze glued to the thigh high blade. Digits hardly scraped it before something restrained her.

The muscles in her arms contracted, her biceps being squeezed by two sets of hands. It made her hands feel week and her back arch in an unconscious attempt to escape the hold. A pained groan escaped her lips at that moment. Her knees divided from one another, leaving her backside to rest against them. Her back remained arched; the pain that accompanied trying to remain otherwise was too great. The two men behind her accepted her body against their own eagerly, breathing down her neck like savages. It was like they were waiting for something to happen, expecting something she did not understand. Hotly she glared up the general, who chuckled down at her. "What do you say men," Her heart jittered in her chest as she watched him reach one hand for the belt of his loosely hung pants, while the other stoked the elongated shaft beneath the fabric. She froze, she expecting something humiliating to happen; now he was readying himself for something that she could not comprehend. She was on her knees what exactly did he expect to do with her in this position? She watched carefully, eyes dancing from his face to his hands. "Should I teach the bitch how to hold her tongue?" The crowd roared in approval. She instantly went wide-eyed. He did not expect her to actually put that in her mouth did he?

It was like watching a nightmare, something so surreal that your mind denies its existence. The roar of the crowed became this persistent ring, echoing in her ears. The darkness rose. She could not hide the broad smirk prying her lips, or the deep fire blazing through her obsidian eyes. The puppeteer had completely eclipsed her; taking full control of every emotion, every sensation and every movement. She welcomed this advance, like a child anticipated a new toy. It rolled hungrily under her ribs, flittering and provoking his actions. Her lashes batted against her brows, watching the fabric tumble loosely about the strap on his thigh. She felt heavy, like breath would soon cease to come. Fingers clamped to her jaw, prying her mouth open with callused fingers. To their surprise she did not struggle, she sat there waiting, staring up at him with wonder.

He was lucky to have his hand dug into the back of her hair. She was tempted to bite when he pushed his hips closer to her face, member jittering in approval against her open lips. She squirmed in discomfort; the digits in her mouth were digging into the pallets behind her teeth, causing a pressurized pain. She groaned; fingers were being replaced with something far more discomforting.

It burned like hell, this thing so foreign that evaded her. Her body rejected its presence instantly, forcing her to choke it down. Her cheeks stretched, her lips chapped. The saliva built in her mouth, threatening to dip; instinctively she struggled to sallow it down. The men on either side of her laughed in approval, slapping her cheek aggressively as she tried to inch away. He continuously teased her, backing out ever so slightly only to ram the member back down her throat. The hair on the back of her head tightened, burying her face deep in his thigh. Men who lived for war seemed to enjoy the force; the idea of unwilling sex was an aphrodisiac to them. Her body screamed for air, pushing into hyperventilated convulsions. She ripped an arm free, slamming it down against the general's leg. She dug her nails deep into the exposed flesh, making sure inflect plain close to his member. He groaned, torn between aroused and rage of her actions. He retracted agonisingly slowly, crawling from the depths of her throat. The air had never seemed sweeter to her lips, it eloped in her lungs like a drug, begging for more. Her chest expanded as her face fell, hair tumbling over her shoulders. The man who rudely deprived her of air kneeled, taking her chin in his hands. "You ready to listen?" She took in his features; the broadness of his chin, the deep color of his skin that blended into black eyes. Even his long braids seemed to match his scars. "I have no problem with continuing this lesion." Her face leaned into his ruff palm, questionably playing a smile. Her tongue graced over her top lip, ridding herself from the discomfort of chapped skin. Huskily he watched her actions, ignoring the fact her hand moved beneath him. She reach her freehand, tracing long nails up his knee, before light tripping against the hilt of his dagger.

Something made her body flinch, a deep crack in the distance. All eyes turn to the guards, whips slapping against the marble floor. "What do you think you're doing?" The crowed of Arcadians then turned on them, making the men stumble back in fright. The widely built men drew swords, threatening the guards to not make another move. "Get Ramses!" One hissed. She dragged her eyes away from the oncoming battle, using this detraction to achieve her main goal. Her tanned finger wrapped around the blade's hilt, unleashing it from the leather strapping. With one swift movement her elbow lashed back, coming into direct contact with one assailant's nose. Her head throbbed as she made contact with the general, throwing him off balance and a good enough distance from her. The unexpected attack gave her the advantage, no one expected her to have done so. Her body swayed back, driving the blade under the last captor's ribs, throwing a cry from his mouth. She sprang to her feet, backing away from the injured men, knife raised in a protective stance. The room fell silent, not a one could understand what exactly had happened. A woman had disarmed them, head-butted their general and had practically killed another warrior.

The darkness of her soul hummed, the violence rushing like poison under her skin. The General slowly stumbled to his feet, a laugh rumbling under his chest. "Fuck woman." With a twist of his fingers his nose seemed to pop, before his finger fell to wipe any blood left behind. "You know how to play dirty." He adjusted his belt back to his hips; both his smile and tense shoulders were shaking with anger. "I must say I enjoy the challenge." She returned him smile sweetly.

"I must say I would love to kill you all."

"Confident are we?" His foot slammed into the soldier who bled out helplessly onto the floor, using the weight of his body as an anchor, he retrieved the sword from man's belt. "You know, woman, it is rude to kill a man with his own weapon."

"You know, Arcadian, I do not give a damn." The warriors were agitated, thick with uncertainty. The lone guard stood silent in the doorway, waiting for Ramses or anything similar to an order to stop this. The poor man could not do so without causing problems with the barbaric tribe. She took in a deep breath, in the need to calm her nerves. The smoked incense was lingering deep in her lungs, a lively breath to the senses. The room was spiced with wine and perfumed smoke.

"Mimicking me will not help you. No woman may insult the Arcadian soldiers in such a manner and expect to live." She lowered her stance, knife pointing towards the floor rather than the men. There was yelling down the corridor, obviously, Ramses had been found and he was not all that pleased. The general did not care; he had become determined to end her. She had gone as far as to harm him; in Arcadian culture, a woman would become subject to slavery or death in such an occurrence. She was already a slave, so death was the only option. "I was going to take pleasure in your disobedience. You have crossed a line this time, woman." Coyly she raked a hand through her long waves, hip teasing to the side.

"You are not the only Arcadian who wished to take pleasure in my insulting nature. I am afraid that his actions are the reason I have disobeyed your laws and I will have my vengeance for it." His hard features mused into a puzzled gaze at her words.

He moved forward filling the void between them hastily, thick fingers clamped about her neck the moment he came into contact. He took in her face, the hatred in her eyes and smiled. "Impossible."

"Forgive me Sir, but as royalty I do not understand this word 'impossible'." Her eyes hooded, the void bubbling through her black gaze.

"Stand down!" Ramses voice danced across the marble walls, taking those murderous eyes off her for a split second. The blade twisted in her fingers, hand jerking swiftly towards his jaw. The fire flared; she felt succession at the edge of her fingertips, calling… no screaming it at her in victory. She tossed her body into the swing, blade singing through the air as it reached out for its victim.

"I thought I taught you better than that Kitten." Her body convulsed in smoke, freezing under the pure power of it. Her blade stopped an inch short of the general's throat, that damn genie stopped her a second short! She screamed out in rage, trying to resist the paralyzing gust. The darkness inside thrashed. It threw itself against her ribcage in violation of her body, demanding redemption. She watched elongated fingers wrap around her blade pulling it from her dead hand. "Never play with your food."

"Jafar!"

"Ah, Ah, Princess, do not be so unkindly." She eyed the room, realizing the silence was unbarring. The General stood unmoving, completely obvious to the blade that had been against his neck. Her eyes scanned the room, everyone stood frozen in time, caught by the cosmic magic of the genie. "You kill this man you lose any chance at getting back to the palace unharmed. Do not be controlled by emotions Princess. If you wait until the last possible second to steal the prize the reward to gain is far greater." The knife melted into his palm, dissipating beneath a magical embrace. She could feel her body ease into his, soothing the darkness back into oblivion. His body seemed so large against hers, like a tower wall against her spine. She could never be as strong as he; she could not control this deep urge inside her. His darkness made him stronger, while her's was there to numb the conscience mind from emotion. Her darkness kept her sane while driving her into the brinks of insanity. His words held more meaning than one, he was a smart man. Contemplating every possibility to one situation to see which road he should take. It was like watching someone with a map to life, walking though the dark corridor without a second guess as to where it leads. He knew where it leads, every moment ended where he wished it to be. Sometimes she wondered if he had known that Aladdin planned to trap him, if he had taken the proposal on purpose…. If he had known the country would fall without him.

The magic fell around her, time throwing itself back into position. It snapped into motion with the force of a deadly blow. She could have sworn that she stumbled, but her hand lay bare against the general's neck. Knife gone; it was just fingers turning his feral eyes upon her skin. She reacted. Jafar wanted her to play their game, manipulate the best, so she would. Digits fluttered against his skin, tracing any but all scars that lay there. She curled her body into his, the curve of her breast against the rock of his muscle, legs threatening to tangle. "Care to explain?"

"Woman, remove yourself from the General." She silently though over the possibilities, exactly how could ignoring him turn out? "Now." His voice was as husky as it was threatening. She found herself jumping at the slight boom of his thick voice. She went to move, but the Generals grip on her throat tightened. His deadly grip was followed by a chuckle.

"You saved me a lot of trouble." Her breath staggered, fingers rearing up to battle his. He lifted her from the floor, to perfect height to stare him in the eyes. Her eyes began to water at the lack of air, at the pained shallow breaths she forced down. "Now, I do not have to go chasing your though the desert sands in search of your dead body. How you even managed to survive fails me woman."


End file.
